


All Those Deep Conversations

by WakeUpDreaming



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, Throwing rocks at a window, post 2x13, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 07:52:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5658478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakeUpDreaming/pseuds/WakeUpDreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy shows up at Toby's house at 3am, sleepless and exhausted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Those Deep Conversations

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow I managed to combine prompts from both tobiasmquinn and im-secretly-a-part-of-scorpion? I don't know this got away from me. Written for the prompts "Wait what did you just say you love me?" and "Why are you on my doorstep at 3am?"

He’s woken from a dream of whirling colors and broken glass by a clacking noise, high and quick in succession. It takes Toby a minute to realize he’s awake.

“This better be good,” he grumbles, and he opens his window to see Happy standing in the parking lot of his apartment complex. She’s throwing rocks up at his window, and one arcs right at his face.

“Who the hell are you, John Cusack without a radio?” he asks out the window, rubbing his forehead where the pebble pelted him.

Happy looks lost. “Who’s John Cusack?”

“Oh, you poor, deprived woman,” says Toby. Then he rubs his eyes, realizing that he's actually awake and this is actually happening. “Wait, what are you -”

“You wouldn’t answer your phone,” Happy says. “And as much as I knocked you didn’t hear. So.” She holds up a handful of rocks. “Plan C.”

“Come to the door,” he says without a second thought. He walks to his door and runs a hand through his hair, drowsy and still unsure if he's dreaming or not, and opens it to see Happy standing there looking as gorgeous as ever.

“So,” he says, “why are you on my doorstep at," he glances at the clock on his microwave, "3 am?”

“I can’t sleep,” Happy says, and it’s like the words push themselves out of her.

He’s not sure what she means, but he opens the door further so she can push past him. Her hair is wet, smelling like some kind of flower, and when she drops her jacket on his floor she’s in pajamas.

“Are you okay?” he asks, because this is the Happy no one sees, someone open, her guard down and honesty running rampant on her expressions.

“No,” Happy says. “I can’t sleep without you. Not since Antarctica. It’s been three nights, and,” she sighs. “I tried everything. I went for a run.”

“In your neighborhood?” Toby asks. “At this time of night?” Because it’s easier to worry about that than to think about what she just said.

“I carry a knife when I run,” she says, shrugging, “And nobody messes with me.”

“Yeah,” Toby replies, “but they could.”

Happy shrugs again. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’d had to stab someone.”

“What?!” Toby says. “What?”

“And then I took a shower,” she says, beginning to pace, ignoring what she just said, “and I still couldn’t sleep, and then I realized.” She looks at him. “You’re really warm. And I think that night in the tent was the first good night's sleep since I was a kid.”

Toby nods, half unsure of what’s happening and half ready to tell her she can sleep next to him for the rest of their lives if she’d have him. “You can stay,” he says quietly. “I don’t mind.” He pauses. "I mean, I want you to stay."

Happy nods. “Yeah, I hoped you’d say that.” That’s when she steps toward him and kisses him like she hasn’t before, slow and languid and Toby thinks his hands were built to rest on her back.

“This isn’t sleeping,” Toby laughs against her lips.

“Well, I’m not tired anymore,” Happy says. She immediately lets out a yawn.

“Liar liar,” says Toby, steering her toward his bedroom, “your Tweety Bird pajama pants are on fire. Which,” he looks down, “not expected, but cute.”

“I like Tweety Bird,” Happy replies, already looking calmer and more exhausted than when she walked into his apartment. “Plus, other pajama pants are too long for me.”

“Oh, you’re adorable,” Toby says, and he risks a kiss to her temple before falling against his pillows.

She looks hesitant now, standing on the other side of the bed and eyeing the mattress like it might attack her.

“This feels more serious than a sleeping bag,” she says, and Toby’s never seen her look so vulnerable.

“I can sleep on the couch,” he offers, but Happy shoots him a glare.

“The point of me being here is you, dope,” she replies. “If I wanted to sleep on a lumpy, old couch I’d be at home.”

She slowly climbs into his bed and under the comforter, sitting up a little too straight and a little too seriously. Toby isn’t sure if it’s him who makes her uncomfortable or the situation as a whole – it’s strange, he thinks, that the last time they slept next to each other was on a roof around their friends, where not much happened but their breathing syncing up and waking up with Happy in his arms.

She turns to him. “I want to do this,” she says, and the look on her face is like she's been fighting to tell him this for ages. “I want to be – I want to be open and trusting and,” she pauses. “I don’t know how to do it, though.”

“That’s okay,” Toby says, desperately holding back his desire to hold her hand, to say something without words. “Neither do I.”

“Yeah, right,” says Happy, and she settles more against the pillows, playing with the frayed edge of the blanket Toby’s mother had knitted for him. “You’re Mr. Feelings.”

“Doesn’t mean I have a clue what to do with them,” he says. “As is evident from, well. Everything about me.”

Happy smiles, just a little bit. “Figure it out together?” she asks quietly.

He nods. “Sounds good to me.” They look at each other for a few minutes, just long enough for Happy to yawn, which makes Toby yawn, which makes Happy yawn again so widely that Toby has to laugh.

“Oh, we’re together five minutes and you’re already laughing at me,” Happy says. “You suck.”

“I didn’t know we were together,” says Toby. “We’re together?”

“Yeah,” Happy says. “I said ‘figure it out together.’ Thought that came across loud and clear.”

“We’re going to work on communication,” Toby says, propping his head up on his arm. He can’t fight the smile on his lips. “Both of us. But now I get it.”

Happy looks at him again for a just a moment, then kisses him like she’s trying to keep herself from changing her mind.

It’s quick and soft, and Toby wonders if he’ll get to do this every night for the rest of his life.

“Now go to sleep,” Toby says as he brushes some of her damp hair out of her face.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Happy shoots back,but there's no bite to it. She snuggles down into the blankets and up against him, and she's warm and content and god it's good to do this when it's not life or death. Toby wraps the comforter tightly around the two of them, and Happy rests her hand over his, and he thinks for a minute that this might be bliss.

“Happy?” Toby asks.

She’s already asleep.

* * *

He’s having the dream of a lifetime. Happy’s kissing him softly, gently, her hands on either side of his face, her hair tickling his skin. He memorizes her lips, because once he goes lucid in a dream it’s a matter of minutes before he actually wakes up, before the dream fades into the background and he sees reality as it is.

He wakes up.

Happy’s curled into his side, her hair tickling his face, her breath hot on his neck as she sleeps. She’s got a leg thrown over one of his, effectively pinning him down. Of course she’d be in control even when they’re sleeping. He doesn’t mind.

He runs his hands through her hair, startled to find it even curlier than usual. Apparently Happy doesn’t go to bed with wet hair often.

She makes a tiny noise as she shifts, the hand she’d rested on his chest gripping at his shirt. Her eyes fly open, then she settles back down.

“Sorry,” she says, “forgot where I was.”

“You’re right here,” Toby says with a smile

Happy rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but I was dreaming about flying. So I was all over the place.”

“I was dreaming about you,” Toby says, smiling.

She stares at him. “Oh yeah?”

He nods. “Not as nice as having you actually here, though.”

“Is this you trying to tell me I’m better than your dreams?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.

“Well, dreams are nothing but my brain trying to process events and thoughts in my day to day life,” Toby says, tucking hair behind her ear, “so anything real Happy does will be magnitudes better than dream Happy.”

“That sounds like a line,” Happy says, “but you’re serious.”

Toby nods. “That’s how dreams work.”

Happy rolls her eyes. “Even when you’re being a sap, you’re a shrink. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“And a genius –” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Happy’s kissing him gently, and if this is her new way to shut him up he’s going to go on rants every ten minutes.

“So what’d I do in this dream?” Happy asks, turning so she’s resting her arms on his chest and her chin on her arms.

Toby can’t help but run his fingertips along her arm, still trying to convince himself that this is real, that she’s here in his bed with him. “Well,” he says, “you were kissing me. And it was nice, but,” he cups her cheek, “nothing like the real thing.”

Happy leans in, kissing him gently, lips hardly parting. “Like that?” she asks, and the grin on her face – she knows what she’s doing.

“Not quite,” Toby says. “Closer to this.” He presses his lips to hers, and when she opens her mouth he hears her whimper, that tiny moan that he’ll never get over. It’s full of promise, Happy sliding just enough up his body to gain leverage and control in the kiss, until she’s got her legs straddled over his hips and his hands are sliding up the back of her shirt.

She moans again, a little louder and a little more meaningful, and Toby has to break away before he can’t think anymore.

Their breathing is heavy, gasping as they pull apart, hands still all over each other.

“Damn,” says Happy, “dream me is good.”

“Real you is better,” Toby replies.

For a moment she looks at him, her hands trailing over his skin with a mind of their own. "The physical part of us has never been difficult," Happy says quietly. "For some reason I've always been able to kiss you and that never scared me."

Toby nods, not wanting to interrupt her.

She leans down again, kissing him softly. “This part’s never been hard,” she mentions. “The kissing, I mean.” She winces. “You’re right. I need to work on communicating.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Toby says. “But you opened the joke. And I think –”

Just as he’d hoped, she kisses him to shut him up, and he’d be okay with never speaking again if instead he could kiss her. God, she’s right though. They’re good at this – knowing before they should just how to touch each other to draw a gasp, how to move their lips to earn a moan. Toby’s willing to dedicate his whole life to making Happy moan, that noise more beautiful than anything he’s ever heard.

When her hands go for her shirt, that’s when Toby has to slow down, has to drop his head against his pillow and think.

“Do you –” he falters at the way Happy’s flushed and grinning, her hair a mess. “Do you want to talk about things first?”

“Talk about what?” Happy asks, and, fuck, it’s not fair when she’s taking her shirt off.

“Okay, I’m calling party foul on getting shirtless when I’m trying to think,” Toby says. At least she’s wearing a bra. “But – you sure you want this?”

She gives him a look that makes him feel dumber than a shoe. “If I didn’t want to be here,” she says, “I wouldn’t be here.”

He nods. “Yes, okay,” he says as her arms reach behind her back, “but I don’t want you to think you want this and then after realize it was just that I’m a good space heater.”

She freezes. “You sure you want this?” she asks, dropping her hands to her sides.

It’s such a bizarre concept to him – that there’s anything about Happy that Toby doesn’t love – that he just stares at her.

“Well this got awkward really fast,” she says. She won’t meet his eyes. “I’ll, uh. I’ll –”

“Of course I want this,” Toby manages. He catches her hand before she leaves, just gently enough that she could pull away if she wanted to. She doesn't. “I want all of you, Happy. I’ve wanted everything about you for ages now.” He’s desperate for her to come back, because he’s never felt colder and more alone than when she’s on the other side of the bed. “I just couldn’t believe you thought there was a chance I didn’t.”

She stares at him. “Why am I so afraid of this?” she finally says.

Toby shrugs. “Because new things are scary,” he offers.

She stares at him. “I don’t want to make excuses anymore,” she manages. “I keep doing this thing where I decide on reasons you don’t really want to be with me, or I do stupid things that I know will hurt you.” She looks at him. “Of all the books I could have chosen, I pick Wimpy Jerkhead’s book. How does that not piss you off?”

“It did,” Toby admits. “But I kind of knew why you were doing it. That’s why I let it slide. Plus,” he sits up so he and Happy are eye to eye, “that book is the reason I found you.”

She searches his face for a minute. “I don’t want to be like that anymore,” she says, looking pained. “I don’t want to hurt you, or me anymore.” She exhales, looking him dead in the eye. “I just want to love you.”

The words hit Happy before they hit Toby, and her eyes widen in surprise. “Oh, god,” she says.

“Wait,” says Toby, “what? Did you just say you love me?”

Happy looks away from him. “What the hell,” she says. “Is this what eight hours of sleep does to a person?”

Toby looks at the clock. “We slept eight hours?”

“That’s what you’re surprised about?” Happy asks.

“Right,” says Toby. “Well, I’ve practically said it four or five times now. Actually said it a couple of days ago.”

“You did?” Happy asks. And, suddenly, Toby realizes her coms were down when he told the entire team that Happy was the love of his life. She doesn’t know.

Toby steadies himself. “Remember when you were lost?” he asks.

Happy nods. “Couldn’t forget it if I tried,” she deadpans.

“The only way they let me leave, the only way Walter let me go after you,” Toby takes a deep breath, “I told him you’re the love of my life. And I mean it. I still do.”

She stares at him, and he can practically hear the gears turning. “What about Amy?”

Toby stares. “What about her?”

“You were going to marry her,” Happy says. “Why wasn’t she the love of your life?”

Toby shrugs. “Before I met you, I thought what I felt for her was as good as I’d get.” He leans in, resting a hand on her shoulder. "But you - I don't know whatever I did to deserve you in my life, but I'd do it a million times."

She looks at him for a minute. “So you consider me the...” she looks confused. “Seriously? Love of your life?”

“What, you hadn’t guessed by now?” Toby asks.

Without another word she kisses him, knocking him back down on the mattress.

"I'm taking it you've got it," Toby says, his hands resting on her arms, sliding to her shoulders, and back down again. "Because it's out there. We've said it."

"I know," Happy says. "Why is this not freaking me out more?"

"Because we're finally talking about it," Toby says, and with the words her realizes how true it is.

She smiles at him. "Talking is second best, though."

Toby's about to ask "to what?", but then Happy's kissing him again and her hands are running up and down his chest. Thinking is impossible in the moment, so he just lets himself feel. The heat from Happy's body, the way her tongue slides against his, the gentle scratching of her nails against his skin. It's more than he deserves, more than he ever expected. But she's here and she's his and he's hers, and if he has any willpower in this world he's going to keep it that way.

She pulls away after a long time, but not long enough. Her lips are kissed bright red, and Toby revels in the fact that he got to do it. Her hair is more wild and curly than he's seen it, and he's certain he's never seen her so beautiful.

“This has been a very eventful few hours,” Toby says, his hands settling on her hips.

“Yeah?” says Happy.

Toby nods. “So do I get to call you my girlfriend now? Because, you know. You love me. I love you. We’ve cuddled many times now.” He runs his hands up and down the sides of her body, watching her eyelashes flutter when he skims her ribs. “And we had all those deep conversations," he turns to press a kiss to her arm. "I feel like that makes you my girlfriend.”

Happy considers it for a moment. “Then," she says, "I guess I’m your girlfriend.”

Toby wants to reply, but Happy’s unhooking her bra and throwing it somewhere in his apartment so, really, words don’t matter anymore.


End file.
